Help, Indian style (travel)

Last night, we left Kerala for the shore temples around Chennai. On
the train, we were the topic of conversation among the five men who
were sharing our compartment. All were married except for one. When
they spoke in English, they suggested I wear more bright colors,
wondered if I could tie a sari and had questions about our lives. When
they spoke in Malayalam, I think they were trying to decide which of
us would make a suitable wife for the only unmarried one of the bunch.
I was voting for my friend. The unmarried one had a mustache and I am
not a fan of the facial hair.

Today, once we arrived in Mamallapurum, we took a walk around the
block. We were heading for a shore temple everyone assured us was very
close and ended up at an ancient stone temple in the middle of town.
There were temples carved from rocks the size of buildings, relief
sculpture of elephants, gods and goddesses.

At one point, we had to climb up very tiny steps that had been carved
into the side of a rock. After my friend practically ran up the side
of the rock and I decided to attempt it....

Half way up, when the steps became even smaller than they were to
begin with, I became tangled up in my excessive skirt/long shirt/scarf
combination. The only option I had at that point was to sit down. So,
I did. Not surprisingly, all of my fluttering caused me to gain the
attention of some helpers. Not one or two...but eight men from Punjab
decided they would help me to the top of the rock. Their words of
encouragement, advice on steps to take, and the pressure of possibly
biting it in front of a small crowd somehow got me off of the steps.
They then showed me the easy way to walk up--completely devoid of
steps.

After my small fiasco, we had two rounds of photos (four in each
picture) and several standard issue questions before we all went on
our way. Soon, it's possible I will have to do something without the
help of half a town. But, for my last few days here, I am pretty sure
help, Indian style, will be offered again.

Blog-on (life)

India seems to have lifted the blog ban. I'm sure it was the multiple newspaper articles (rather than my post) that made the difference. Good job, India.

change of plans (life)

I had planned on writing about my recent car ride with a man who thought it was his karmic duty to pass every other car on the road or something about the fact that if I was a teacher in India I would be paid about $50 a month (paid at the end of the year). But, some things that have happened here in India are much more worthy of a post.

 

Several days ago, I tried to log onto my friends' blogs. I was not able to see them and thought it was probably due to the fact that the monsoons impact internet connection. Yesterday, when I read the paper, I found out that something else was at work. The Indian government has blocked several major blog sites from being viewed within India. There is concern about the anti-Indian content of some of the blogs on the sites. For me, not being able to read my friends blogs was my first (surprising) interaction with direct censorship. I miss reading my friends updates on their lives. For the people of India, the impact is much greater.

 

Today, I read an article by an Indian blogger who no longer has access to his own sight. Without using backdoor access, he could not view the words he had written for one year. I am not sure if he is able to post via email, as I am right now. Blogs have become such an important network of communicaiton world wide. In his article, he talked about the blogs of Mumbai sharing current information about the bombings faster than the news networks.

 

Our world is changing. The way information is shared and who is sharing mass information is also changing. It seems like blocking a major network of information sharing will not do anything to stop spreading hatred. Rather, it will cause disconnection and frustration...both of which perpetuate terror.

pelvic thrust, pelvic thrust, shoulder shimmy, shoulder shimmy (life)

Since I've been in India, each night, as I'm getting ready to sleep, I like to watch a little Bollywood. There have always been a few different movies to choose from and I've learned quite a bit.

My travel partner has the patience to sit through a whole movie, interrupted every 10 minutes to show the same 5 commercials, just so she can find out if the father lets the pretty girl run away with the poor boy who has done something amazing to save her life. He always does.

I, on the other hand, have found that I enjoy the less plot/more dance options. If there are modern Bollywood movies on, I have to flip back and forth between several movies to keep the dance factor high. But, if there are classics, from the 1970s, I am a happy camper. The movies from this time have really great costumes, very big hair, and lots and lots of dance sequences (a highlight was a call and response pelvic thrust between the pretty girl and the bad-ass guy). I find the grainy film a charming element to the whole experience.

Although this is not my favorite type, it captures the spirit.

Breakfast in India (travel)

I've been completely loving the food of India. Each day, I sit down to eat some variation of a bread/rice/veggie/bean combo. Really it's my ideal. I would like a little more non-cooked food in my life. But, avoiding nasty water born illness is not a bad hobby to have here and I really don't mind.

One thing that is kind of throwing me for a loop are the number of spoons at breakfast. I've taken to eating everything with my right hand and rarely find a use for cutlery of any kind (that is except to add the sugar to my coffee, which is now a standard issue deal for me). Each morning, after I order my breakfast, I'm amazed by the number of spoons that come with the meal. I was given eight this morning. Yesterday, it was more. If you add my food and my friend's food, plus our assorted hot beverages and chutneys, one could conceivably use about 6 spoons. But, when you factor in the hand as fork deal, the number falls of exponentially.

So, I used two spoons this morning, just to be polite.

Mayor of Mysore (life)

Yesterday, we walked the steps of Chamundi Hill to see Chamundeshwari Temple. It turns out yesterday was the third Friday of a celebration that only happens once a year. People had come to perform their pujas...one woman put yellow and red pigments on each of the 1000+ steps, others burned small fires, sweets were given out once you reached the top....

On the way, the boys seemed to want to practice their English. I believe that the schools in this part of the world teach the children a standard dialogue. When I was in 7th grade, I learned one for Spanish and can still recite it (in what I think is) word for word. Here (and in Kuala Lampur), the two favorite questions of boys aged 9-19 seem to be "Hello. What's your name?" and "Where you from?" Some brave girls will ask...but, mostly they giggle when you say Namaste.

At the temple, I answered every question. When it became obvious that we were fully interactive tourists, the boys then wanted to practice the other American skill of shaking hands. I shook the hands of enough people to feel like I could run for office here in Mysore.

Tomorrow, we will begin the day with an Ayurvedic massage and then go see Mysore Palace. On Monday, we will go to a class that teaches painting techniques used by the hill tribes. Even with the need to navigate the overzealous auto rickshaw drivers and dodge the people who are very willing to give you directions to a place if you just stop in their store for 2 hours, Mysore is a truly wonderful place.

Mumbai (life)

I am so sad about what has happened to the people of Mumbai. Being here right now is making all of my feelings from so many years ago surface. I spent time worried that the airports would close, infrastructure would stop working, and I would not be able to get out of the country. Slowly, I am seeing that the people of India are having a different reaction than the people of New York. Right now, I am not looking at my time left in India as something to avoid or fear. Tomorrow I should know more of what I should do. Now, I think I may be able to sleep through the night for the first time in days.

The Ladies Car (travel)

Yesterday would have been one of the worst days I've had traveling if it had not been for the amazing generosity I experienced every step of the way. We tried to take a train from Chennai (on the southeast coast) to Goa (on the northwest coast). We were very pleased with ourselves because we booked the tickets there and to the next city in advance. The first little problem was that we did not really book the ticket to Goa. It seems we booked a ticket to a town close (on the map) to Goa. We were going to have to take another train and a bus to Goa. This sounded fine when the lady told us at the train station. But, it was not as it seems.

On the first train, families offered us their food, asked us about our plans, and were interested in finding out why we decided to come to India. On the second train, a woman invited us to her home, was so excited when I gave her my American coins for her children and then gave me her bangles as a gift. She also asked us not to take the bus because the roads were too dangerous. Everyone warned us not to trust anyone and wanted to keep in touch after we returned to America.

At the end of our overnight train ride and the little 2 hour trip, we ended up in the very small town of Londa. There were two main roads, many cows, and several monkeys. Because the next train to Goa left at 3 in the morning, we decided to spend the next 15 hours in the town of Londa and checked into their hotel. The hotel cost $1 and was worth every cent. We had to lock our stuff/ourselves in with our own locks and shared a bathroom with whom ever came walking in (and did not really expect to see two women there). When we walked in the town, we met a man and woman who had a bangle and clothing shop. They were so kind--they helped us see the insanity of our plan, invited us to their home for a meal, and spoke about Ayurvedic medicine with us for hours. In the end, we left Londa at 8, for an overnight trip to Bangalore instead of trying to get to Goa.

That train was general seating. The shop owner told us to go to the ladies car because we could not get a sleeper. This car seems to be the way most Indians travel and lacked some of the basic comforts of home (space, something that was not hard to sit on, and space). A woman slept under the chairs. Another slept on the luggage rack. After a moment of utter hesitation, we sat down. Two girls in university quickly befriended us and helped us navigate the ways of the ladies car. An hour into the ride, my friend was working with an old grandma and auntie to wind her ball of yarn.

The exhaustion of not sleeping for two days and uncertainty of the situations was diminished by the conversations I had with all of these people. It's hard to believe that all of that happened in two days--the events of each day seem to be so far from one another. I wonder if I will ever feel like my instincts are correct in India--I think it helps when I am a little sleepy; my crankiness mode seems to get things done in a much more efficient manner than my patient and polite mode. I can't wait to see what happens today.

The train, the train (travel)

Today, we are leaving Chennai for a city on the other side of India. We will be going to Goa for a little beachy/monsoon action. After Goa, we will head for the hills and see the call center capital of India (Bangalore) and spend some time lounging, as I hear that is what Bangalore is known for.

 

It is so hot that I find myself not wanting to eat. But, when I force a meal on myself, I have loved the chutneys on a big egg pancake for breakfast, the masalas for lunch and the sweets for dessert. My American habits mean that I need to order two milky coffees each time I sit down and still leave feeling under caffenated.

 

Luckily, I don't seem to need caffeine to get me through the day. The cars, buses, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, and bikes keep me on my toes as I walk through the streets. The sight of temples, fruit pyramids, and sacred cows make me want to learn more. And, the idea that all I've experienced has only been in two days makes me wonder what is to come.

the times, they are a-changing (life)

I just sent a (dreaded) mass email to tell all friends and family that
I'm leaving for India and I'd be keeping them updated every once in a
while. I expected a few out-of-office replies and got some. Two were
from friends who have serious jobs. The last one was from my little
sister. She is 13. And, she has an out-of-office reply. I was never
never that advanced.

incompetence exposed (life)

Normally, I am a pretty competent person. I make it through each day
with little to no domestic hassle. I hold down a job. I see my friends
and family. I, well, you know, do all of the normal stuff. But, it
seems, there are some holes in my competency. I cannot find a way to
get myself to the airport. Normally, I'm the one who leaves and
friends and/or family make the run to the airport. This time, however,
my family has gone to Vee-Tee and my roommate beat me to CA.

This has caused me to need to try to figure out how to go to the
airport. Unfortunately, I am not taking a plane from the airport that
I can walk to from my apartment. And, it seems I have never taken a
taxi here in the city. Really, I've taken a few taxis. They were all
arranged for me by a friendly bar-man when the walk home is too
far/it's too dark or just pick one out from the line by my subway
stop. Now, I have to arrange to take a taxi from my apartment at the
crack of dawn and it's a little impossible.

Today is the day I figure it out. It's essential because tomorrow is
the day I take off and land in LA. Woo hoo!!!!

International Diplomacy (politics)

This morning, I enjoyed my balcony with a cup of coffee and the paper. Two articles caught my eye.

It seems that the World Cup has helped England and Germany move beyond their sorid history. Through efforts by both teams and the bureaucrats, the soccer fans of England and Germany are being nice to one another. The NYT said the World Cup brought these countries closer together than they had been since WWII.

The other act of international diplomacy took place in Memphis. I knew that Japan's Prime Minister Koizumi had planned on visiting Graceland. But, I did not realize that President Bush suggested the visit as a last visit gift to the PM. I thought heads of state focused on fancy pens and old weapons when they were giving gifts. But, not this time. They had peanut butter and banana sandwiches on Air Force 1. The PM did a little dance. All the major players were on hand (Lisa Marie, Pracillia, the Secret Service). I am not sure if any issues of international importance were solved. But...but, I guess everyone was kind of happy. Mostly PM Koizumi.